Civil War
by Irish-Ninja
Summary: Oneshot. An idea I had for a full story, but before committing to making something huge I figured I better find out if you folks like the idea.


I do not own any of the places or people mentioned in this story, it's all property of Bethesda Softworks.

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Okay here's a one-shot dealie for Oblivion, it takes place not long after the events of Oblivion. I was planning on making an actual story about it first, but got lazy and made it a one-shot; if you folks like the idea then I will make a real story using this storyline.

**Civil War**

No one to sit on the throne… the seat of power in this country and it sits vacant. I thought my work was done when Martin Septim was supposed to take the throne… but now a large stone dragon stands in his stead in the middle of the Imperial City. Convenient that the throne didn't even have time to get cold before high chancellor Ocato tried to find a loophole to put his own carcass on the throne… bloody elf. Naturally the dukes, duchesses, counts and countesses all vied and campaigned to prove their worth to the throne. Akatosh help us, I wonder how The Blades have felt about this? The elite soldiers of Cyrodiil with no one to serve, just sitting atop Cloud Ruler Temple, watching armies line up one by one to battle; and for what? A large gold chair. It was not even half a year ago that I fought alongside these same soldiers to close that damned Oblivion gates… the fellowship… the unity… Martin's sacrifice… all forgotten because of pride and greed.

My name is Cerus Stapholm, though I go by many other titles. The Hero of Kvatch. The Champion of Cyrodiil. I have fought and bled beside soldiers from every nation in this country… how soon has that become forgotten?

Anvil, Bravil, Bruma, Cheydinhal, Chorrol, Leyawiin, Skingrad… all once nations that stood strong together against the Daedric invasion… now look at them. They battle each other without any remorse or thought… disgusting. I suppose this could have been avoided had it been brought to light sooner, but I had my own business to attend to in the Shivering Isles; I leave the country for a few weeks and all hell breaks out.

I suppose the different factions also showing up to take their chances for the throne also adds an interesting element to the situation. The Thieves Guild has apparently been very aggressive in their attempt to take control… how ironic would it be to see the Imperial Legion bowing before the Grey Fox someday? The Dark Brotherhood has been spilling blood on all sides of this war; they're making the mark, but it's stupid to make everyone your enemy all at once, it's only a matter of time before they're wiped out for good I'm sure. The Fighters and Mages Guilds have taken quite a hard hit over all this, literally both guilds have been split in two; the sides that want to maintain order and protect the civilians, and the halves that want their own piece of power.

So I'm sure you're asking yourself where my allegiance lies in this war? Being an Imperial man myself, one would think I would battle for Ocato I guess. Bat away the oncoming armies that break down the gates of the Imperial city and attempt to overthrow the throne… to hell with that, I'll die before I bow to that self-righteous Elven bastard. He took what was to be Martin's and made it his, and with Martin conveniently unable to take the throne, he just took it; no vote, no elections, no trials, he just snatched it for himself. Before this war is over I will make sure personally that I will gaze upon his head on a stick, and smile.

I was content to just remain in the Shivering Isles, I have a purpose there… a lot of people are hurting there and need someone to look after them… but I can not allow some things to go un-punished. Eyja… sweet Eyja… the poor girl. She never harmed anyone, she never meant anyone any wrong… but because of me… damn it. She was my house keeper in Rosethorn Hall, my home… my former home in Skingrad. News reached me that Janus Hassildor, the damned vampire count of Skingrad, took her from me. Eyja was so good to me. Many times when I was sick or wounded from my travels, she cared for me; where she could have let me die and inherited my wealth, instead she nursed me back to health every time… and I appreciated her for that… appreciation grew to respect… respect grew to love… and now she's gone. Hassildor… he sent soldiers to me estate with orders to kill everyone there… meaning to eliminate me obviously. She was the only one there, and because of Hassildor's desire to eliminate me she now is dead. He got his though; it wasn't easy but he got his. I still remember his pitiful pleads, trying to bargain with me to let him go, his pitiful naked body kneeling in the grass as the sun was due to rise that morning. I stripped his body so that his entire colourless body would be exposed to the morning sun. I bound each wrist to large boulders, I'm sure he could have tried dragging them to safety… had I not broken his legs. Oh how he begged me for mercy, the empty promises he made me; I gave him mercy alright, the same mercy he gave Eyja. As the sun peaked out from behind the mountains at first light, I remember watching his skin sizzle, hearing him scream; pleading. I grew tired of hearing his begging, shameful for a man to die whining like a wounded pup. I took my sword and pierced it through his chest, his blood bursting into flames as the sun's warmth touched it. I finally silenced him by pulling my sword from his chest and then removing his head. I watched for several moments as his remains burst into flames, leaving mounds of dust in its wake. The morning breeze began to scatter the dust, blowing it away, erasing any evidence that Hassildor was ever there. It wasn't long though that Skingrad troops arrived to kill me. I fought, for a while, before they grew disorganized and retreated. I allowed them to escape, my vendetta was not with those men, no need to make any more widows and orphans than need be.

Now here I am, staring down the mountain at the Imperial city from atop this mountain. I never truly appreciated how beautiful the Imperial city looks from a distance in the sunrise… no wait that's not true, there was when I looked back after escaping from the dungeon through the sewers… the day my journey began… but at the time I was scared and was too busy running to save myself to fully take in the wonder I'm looking at now. I hear the horns and drums as banners fly. Armies all clash together around the Imperial city, spilling blood of once allies; brothers kill brothers, sons kill fathers… and for what? To put a pompous, self-important swine who is too good to dirty his own hands, on a throne. I look over my shoulder and see my ranks of Golden Saints standing at attention. Legions of them, they stretch so far back I cannot see the end of them. Truly this army by size alone, nevermind their fantastic skill, will be enough to destroy those down below. I look over my other shoulder to see my Dark Seducers, equal in number and just as skilled. That fool, Sheogorath, Jyggalag, whatever he called himself, was very kind to leave me such an army. The ranting idiot that was the Daedric prince of Madness, the conflicted bumbler that was the prince of Order… if I ever see him again someday I must thank him for use of his army, right before I drive him through.

I unsheathe my sword and take my shield from my back as I hear the sounds of metal sliding on metal, the sound of an eternal army readying their weapons to fight on my very word. I am not like those others that want to sit on the throne though; I do not stand at the back of my troops waiting for them to die so that when the day is done I can tiptoe around their battered corpses and take what they won for me. This world does not need an arrogant peacock on the throne, primping themselves while many toil beneath them, this world needs a champion that will fight for it; that will bleed for it… that will die for it. Many will come after I win this war, and all will fail. I have made a living out of changing the world, and now that I have an army I'm sure I can manage one more change. I raise my sword and hear my armies prepare the charge, but they know my decree; they will not charge before me, they will not coddle me and unnecessarily sacrifice themselves for me; if I am too weak to stand beside them, then I am too weak to lead them. I let out a shout, a warcry that echoes down the mountain and I begin my run, hearing millions of feet running behind me, also shouting their battle cries. The Civil War of Cyrodiil will end before today's sun sets, this I promise to all that live in fear in this country.

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That's it, all done. Let me know what you think. 


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